| |
An endangered species?
Some of you remember how it was in the so-called good old days when we were kids. We'd be at a family picnic on a hot summer day, and there'd be watermelon for dessert. Inside the melon there would be big black seeds which could be neither chewed nor swallowed. So they had to be spit out in some way. Well viola, an instant harmless weapon suitable for use on one's unwary cousins and siblings!
And so we would spit seeds at one another for a few golden moments -- that is, until one of us who was a little more enterprising than the others would suddenly have two insights: first, that it took a lot of energy to blow those seeds far enough to reach one's adversaries (it was also unsanitary, but that did not seem to bother us -- on the contrary); and second, those seeds were each coated with a sort of natural slime which allowed them to be placed under great pressure using lips and/or teeth, and then suddenly -- and soundlessly –- released at great speed towards one's target through curled-up tongue.
Have you eaten a slice of watermelon lately? (This reminds me of those ads on TV: "Have you driven a Ford? Lately?" Correct response: "Well, yes -- and it felt like just as much of a clunker as the Tin Lizzy that I drove back in 1923!")
If you have eaten that slice lately, you may have noticed something interesting: chances are there were no big black hard seeds inside of the type we used to spit and 'slither' at one another. Instead, there are a few poor little pathetic stunted soft white seedlets (I will not dignify them by calling them "seeds".)
We soon discover that these drear little entities are good for absolutely nothing. They can be swallowed; but as they do not seem to have any food value (I am convinced that nothing that anemic-looking could have any), what would be the use? Besides, do I want one of those stuck in my throat to bother me the rest of the day?
(A challenge to food companies around the world: see if you can mash the seedlets and market them in the form of a putty-like paste which could be spread on crackers as a sort of depressing appetizer [would paprika help?].)
Then too, those bland little nothings are useless for spitting at someone: they have no mass of any consequence, and thus they can not be propelled an honest foot.
So what are they good for? I asked myself this question many times over, but could not answer it to my satisfaction. It took me a while before I realized that I was asking the wrong question. The real question should have been: why are they there to begin with?
Apparently to replace the black ones. I guess the marketers of watermelon failed to understand how much fun we were having with those big bad black bullets! They must've thought that they were a pain for us to deal with; so they substituted the wan white wimpy ones.
But how do you make such a substitution?
Here are some guesses by one who is unfamiliar with modern technologies but who usually can rely on his hunches:
a) Special needles with strong vacuum devices are inserted through the skin of the watermelon. These 'suck up' the black seeds. The wan white seedlets are then 'blown' back in using a reverse process.
(Problems with this theory: it is unclear why, if the goal was to make the watermelon easier to eat, they would go to the trouble of inserting the little white seedlets. Perhaps they wanted them there as a sort of sentimental reminder of what was lost; but it is unclear as to whether the effect is worth the effort. The other caveat has to do with the physical possibility of being able to suck up the big hard black seeds through the pithy fruit; or, if that is accomplished, to withdraw the large hard seeds through the tiny needle holes. I will not bother to speculate on the possible existence of needles that suck and blow.)
b) Inject a powerful undetectable drug into the watermelon which 'ages' the big black seeds, turning them within days into withered old-fart white seedlets.
(Problems with this theory: the white seedlets are not withered, they are smooth. In fact, they appear to be immature, or proto-versions of the mature black seeds. So maybe I should change the above to: "Inject a powerful undetectable drug into the watermelon which infantilizes the big black seeds..." Of course, the old caveat about why we would want the white seeds in there still holds. Plus, all of this business of injecting individual melons is beginning to seem mighty labor-intensive!)
(Another problem with this theory: this would mean that, in essence, they had discovered (sorry, Ponce de Leon -- re-discovered) the Fountain of Youth of mythical fame -- at least for this one tiny little corner of nature. But even if this were true, it would still be a far cry to finding a drug which works on the proverbial laboratory animal, to say nothing of humans.)
c) They grew a new kind of watermelon -- the kind that has little anemic white seedlets instead of big robust black seeds.
(Examination of this theory: at the risk of sounding like a broken record, why would anyone in their right mind want to put those white seedlets into the melon? Answer: maybe they can't help it. I'm sure that scientists would tell us that they are trying like the dickens to eliminate all the slight little white seedlets, but some keep slipping through (this is called "leakage" or "seepage" by plant growers -- or at least should be.) So when we use the term 'seedless', we will understand it to mean 'near-seedless'.)
Well, that clears that question up! Now we know: the seed switch is what is known as "A Miracle of Modern Science."
As everyone knows (so why am I bothering to say it? Because I know damn well that everyone doesn't know what I'm about to say and I'm just trying to browbeat any readers who are uncertain of themselves on this subject), in order to get a new plant, one plants a seed from the fruit of an existing plant of the same type. So, in order to get a plant which bears fruit containing those little anemic white seedlets, one must plant one of those little anemic white seedlets.
(Okay, I'll confess, the above is not always true [in general one must be highly suspicious when one encounters the words "one must..."]. But, in order to get the right dramatic effect, I took the liberty of stating the situation in that form now. I plan to reveal the slightly more complex truth below.)
There is only one problem with the notion of white seedlet plants begetting other white seedlet plants: I can tell just by looking at those little white wimps that they are constitutionally incapable of growing anything whatsoever. They are, in fact, a veritable insult to the whole notion of 'seed'.
"But daddy, they look like seeds!"
"In a superficial sense, yes. But looks can be deceiving in this sort of situation."
"What do you mean 'this sort of situation'?"
The father decides that this is the opportune time to give his son a biology lesson -- even though he himself never did particularly well in the subject.
"Let's dissect each type of seed and observe the difference."
Somehow the father is able to find one of the old black watermelon seeds -- don't ask me where or how -- I think he was hoarding them; or perhaps the family had had watermelon of both types that evening for dessert. He cuts through the black seed with a knife.
"Do you see the green and the flesh, the moisture and the sheer -- fecundity of it all? You just know that it can grow something!" The father is astonished at his own eloquence; but at the same time is a bit embarrassed for conjuring up imagery that might provide difficulties should his son bring it up. The boy nods dubiously but luckily says nothing. The father then picks up one of the little anemic white seedlets: it is so puny that he can hardly get it between his fingers. He cuts through it.
"What do you see? Do you see anything at all? No? Well, neither do I! There's just some more of the pitiful white stuff. You can tell with near absolute certainty that this can't grow anything whatsoever! In other words, it is what they call in the growing business 'reproducibly void'." He had made that last bit up out of whole cloth not only to impress his son but as well to avoid certain other words. (Need I add that he has a fondness for euphemism?)
Indeed, he was extra proud of the fact that he had invented that method of dissection to tell whether a seed is fertile or not right there on the spot (even though he just told his son that "looks can be deceiving".) He expected his son to be impressed; instead the son says:
"But aren't the seeds of a cantaloupe small and white like those others? But they're not -- what do you call it?"
"Reproducibly void?"
"Is that another name for impotent?"
Well, there it is -- yet another word that dares not speak its name -- at least not on evening television commercials.
That is one precocious kid! We shall see that he has not only already had a good science education, but that he asks the right kind of questions. And you can bet that the next thing he'll want to know is, how can you produce a viable plant from the impotent fruit of another? That is, how can you get a so-called seedless watermelon from another so-called seedless watermelon?
You can't, of course. The so-called seedless watermelon is the end of the line. Nothing can be produced from it.
I don't know about you, but this makes me very nervous. For it seems to me like they are breeding watermelons whose destiny is their own extinction. (When I refer to 'they' in the previous sentence, I am talking about those who tend to play fast and loose with nature.) I could tolerate this result for any number of fruit-growing plants for which I have very little feeling (the kumquat? I wouldn't care a fig if they all died out tomorrow!) But the lordly watermelon, the Leviathan among fruits? I find that impossible to conceive (so to speak)!
"So, daddy, why don't watermelons which can't reproduce themselves die out?"
"The growers must have other ways of producing them."
"How?"
The father has only a vague notion of the answer to this question. He gave his last answer by the seat of his pants -- that is, something between inspiration and bullshit. Now he has to come up with something and fast.
"By engaging two other types of watermelon plants in what could be called 'non-invasive alien intercourse'."
"Is that the same as cross-pollination?"
"Yes, basically."
"So the seedless watermelons are produced by fertilizing one kind of watermelon plant with pollen from another kind of watermelon plant?"
"I guess so..."
"What is an example of invasive alien intercourse?"
(Thanks to his use of suggestive language, the father has opened a whole can of worms -- if not Pandora's Box itself!)
"It must be between unlike species of animal -- a donkey and a horse, for example, to produce a mule."
"Is that called mating?"
"I suppose it is."
"Isn't a mule impotent?"
"Yes it is."
"Do you think it's possible to produce an impotent chicken by mating a rooster with some other bird like a pigeon?"
(dubious) "I suppose theoretically..."
(seemingly out of the blue): "Is it true that bones in chicken bother us as much as seeds do in watermelon?"
(Wondering where this is all going): "Probably more so, because we can't shoot the bones at one another!"
"Well then, if cross-breeding is how they produce seedless watermelon, then that must be how they make boneless chickens!"
(Feeling like he's been caught in a logical trap): "What? Oh, I -- I guess so...."
After the boy is in bed, the father brags to his wife about the great biological discussion he had had with their son. The woman scoffs: "Then, all I can say is, there must be a whole lot of helpless pathetic chickens out there who can't stand on their own, nevertheless flap their wings or stick out their necks to so much as feed themselves; nervous wrecks wallowing and flailing about in the dust of farm yards while they are waiting to get fat enough to be slaughtered!"
But we need to leave that happy family situation and return to the subject of watermelons. Ultimately, the survival of the watermelon depends upon our ability to grow new plants. Here is what I think we know at the moment:
a. Watermelon plants are grown from the seeds of watermelons; but
b. Watermelon plants cannot be grown from the seedlets of near-seedless watermelons; therefore
c. Watermelon plants must be grown from the seeds of watermelons with big black fecund seeds. And, because in general only seedless watermelon are being produced, it follows that the total number of those big black seeds must be more or less constantly decreasing.
So the big question seems to be: Where are the good (i.e. big black potent) seeds and who is in charge of them?
It seems to me that there are two possible answers to this question:
1. They are spread around the world, willy-nilly, amongst anonymous amateurs who are unaware of their true value and who thus, caught up in the mad rush to produce impotent watermelons, might inadvertently allow the good seeds to be frittered away; or
2. They are quietly bought up and hoarded by unscrupulous speculators, against the day when they can corner the market and drive the cost of watermelon so high that it would be considered a delicacy at a family picnic.
Of the two choices above, which is worse? You might be tempted to say the first situation of total anarchy, since no one knows what anyone else is doing and before you know it all the seeds have disappeared because no one cared or was keeping track.
But consider this: imagine picking up a newspaper one day and reading the following:
"FIRE DESTROYS SEED WAREHOUSES
Buildings Believed to House All Remaining Watermelon Seeds"
I don't know about you, but that headline sends shivers running up and down my spine.
Is anyone out there minding the store?! And, now that I think of it, what about those seedless (aptly named in this case) grapes?
Appendix: A short glossary of botanical terms:
cross-pollination: using pollen which are out of sorts
grafting: bribing a grower to mess with his trees
impotent: like sterile, except dirtier
(15 December 2008)
Back to top
|
|
|
|
